In the last 24 years of my life, a total of 16 people have passed away from both sides of my family. That is as long as I remember. One of my aunt died of heart attack as recently as three months back. I have never mourned their death. I have never felt robbed. Nor have I ever felt the loss. Yet I have liked them all. In varying degrees. And that makes me wonder if something isn't quite right with my reaction to 'Death' as such.

Death is a stranger I have only heard of. I am told he is an unwelcome guest who's just taken a rain check. But, first and foremost, he is a compulsive thief. He visits only to rob us. And that's where the problem arises for me. Because, as far as I can see, Death cannot take away what was or what is. It can only rob us of what can be. And what can be is nothing but a figment of our imagination. The possibility of 'tomorrow' is only in our minds. Life is today. Life is this moment. It is here and now. Death cannot claim it. Death robs us of 'what never was.' Never 'what was' or 'what is.'

Which begs the question, what if 'what was' and 'what is' is so lifeless that 'what can be' is not missed at all? Is it possible that occasions such as this warrant no mourning? When there is nothing to miss, what do we cry for? When the individual who is no more had lead a life that was itself a sad apology what does death really take away? A prolonged apology of a life?

Death is same to all of us in its physiological aspects. Our heart stops beating, no longer does the body breath, it grows cold, rigor mortis sets in. There is nothing in this process that is tragic. Nothing dramatic. It is most impersonal at the least. The tragedy lies in the life that, with it, stops to be.

A Martin Luther King's death is not the same as a common drug addict's in its philosophical dimensions. One is a life-wish, a reservoir of moving life energy being extinguished, the other is a death-wish, an abnormality meeting its quick end. The two do not evoke the same emotion within us. Dr.King's death is devastating in proportions far beyond an individual's. His death personifies the negation of an exalted idea of existence. A drug addict personifies the loss of survival instincts and mindless waste. His life is devoid of any positive life-affirming aspects that his death takes away nothing except 'negative energy' or 'death' itself. It is hard to mourn the loss of 'negativity' and therefore, difficult to empathise with his loss of life.

Dr. King's death is the death of a dream within each one of us. It is a devastating and sudden murder of fairness, justice and equality in our hearts. To every man and woman who has dreamt of a better world for their children, who have strongly rooted for man's right even if only in the closed vicinity of their own houses, who have believed in love and peace, his death is a personal attack on their expressed and unexpressed hopes. His life granted a beautiful dream to millions. It offered a possibility that death snatched away. So he is mourned. Rightfully, and most sincerely. But what about the drug addict? Can we mourn his passing away? Simply because he passed away? Just because he is a human being? Or simply because we knew him? What was there to miss? To mourn?

That is why I feel that those who can mourn are really lucky. Because it only shows that they 'had' something to miss. Often when I have heard of death in other people's families, I have imagined what it feels like. In order to empathise, I try to walk in their shoes for a while. But I fail.

I realise, without shock or surprise, that I will hardly mourn my parents. Not that I don't like them. I do. But there is nothing that 'was' or 'is' that will make me want what 'could be' and hence, miss it. We are only a so-so family. A little dysfunctional, a little depraved, and totally ignorant of each other as people.

And there lies the whole debate on death in black and white. Death in itself is not sad. Or tragic. It is the lives that are taken away that give it meaning. Reason why, sometimes, death can be quite a happy occasion too. Ask a daughter who is being raped for years by her father how she feels about his death. Ask a wife how she feels about her husband's death who left her with a broken skull and third degree burns for life.

For a long time, I used to think that I was dead to the world. Not being able to cry for the passing away of those around me. I used to feel guilty. I even used to stay away from these unfortunate occasions. What if someone saw through me and realised what a moron I was. To be a stranger to the emotions of my brothers and sisters made me most uncomfortable for a very long time. But then I realised that I do mourn. I am capable of feeling sad for the death of men and women whom I have never met. Like, Socrates. Marlyn Monroe. Dr. Martin Luther King. Ayn Rand. Albert Einstein and Da Vinci. So I know I am not guilty of being dead within. That is, indeed, a very comforting thought to live with.